


almost (sweet music)

by SafelyCapricious



Series: things you find in a graveyard [31]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Celebrations, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SafelyCapricious/pseuds/SafelyCapricious
Summary: The station is packed – it had been a relay point for wounded soldiers to be picked up and for the new to be packed off to the battlefront, so it had always been fairly crowded, but now it resembles a nightclub.The war is over.They won.Jemma laughs as another soldier spins her as she makes her way to the makeshift bar that had been erected in the cantina – he grins and sets her on her feet and moves to do the same to someone else.





	almost (sweet music)

**Author's Note:**

> Title generated by the [Hozier random fanfic title generator](http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=22501). They have literally saved my life this month. I love them. If they want fic I will write anything.
> 
> **FICTOBER IS DONE!** Oh my god we all survived. 
> 
> For the last fic you get...smut! Smut that I started like ages ago for a different prompt, but you know what? It works. Enjoy!

The station is packed – it had been a relay point for wounded soldiers to be picked up and for the new to be packed off to the battlefront, so it had always been fairly crowded, but now it resembles a nightclub. 

The war is over.

They won. 

Jemma laughs as another soldier spins her as she makes her way to the makeshift bar that had been erected in the cantina – he grins and sets her on her feet and moves to do the same to someone else. 

She’s lost the other members of the weapons development team, Fitz, Bobbi and Mack, in the crowd quite a bit ago, but she doesn’t mind. 

After all, she has plans for the evening and they don’t involve the same three faces she’s been spending ninety-eight percent of her time with for what feels like the last eon.

She bumps into someone as she turns, regaining her balance from her spinning, and sees something fall to the ground. She darts down to grab it and sees that it’s an old-fashioned Earth lighter with an engraving on it. She reads it and has to fight back the urge to laugh – she keeps herself straight faced as she looks up into the face of the man who’d dropped it…and then she smiles, widely.

“Jemma,” she says, simply, as she passes him the lighter.

His hand curls around hers and he steps closer. “Grant,” he says, sliding the lighter engraved with ‘Girl, if you want to fuck, smile when you hand this lighter back,’ into his pocket. 

She tilts her head and turns, fighting her way through the crowd back towards the door – she doesn’t have a room to herself but she’s been on the station long enough to know all of the hidden nooks and crannies and she’s sure she can find something suitable for their needs. 

His hand curls around her waist as she crosses the room, and more than once he moves her easily out of the way of the searching hands of a celebrating soldier. 

They’ve only just moved into a less populated corridor before his other hand curls around her waist and pulls her back against his body. He’s taller than her, which isn’t difficult to be, but it could make the logistics of this slightly more challenging – depending on where they manage to find some privacy.

He ducks his head and kisses a spot under her ear that makes her shiver. She arches her neck obligingly and he takes advantage, his lips and tongue doing sinful things down her neck and his hands starting to wander up from her waist – until a group of cheering soldiers burst into the corridor. 

She finds herself tucked against him, faster than she would’ve thought possible, and his bulk blocking anyone from seeing her. She looks up at him once they’ve passed and his expression is intense, eyes dark and lips curled as he stares at the hallway. “You’re just mine,” her throat goes a little dry she swallows, his gaze dropping to her at the motion, “tonight.”She’s not sure if she should be disappointed or relieved, and before she’s decided, he continues, head tilted and eyes intent on her. “Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private?” 

Her fingers curl into the front of his shirt and she shakes her head. “Nowhere is going to be private, tonight, but I can maybe give you quieter.” 

He considers her for a moment, gaze dropping away from her face, before he wets his lips and says, “I’ll settle for quieter. I want to be able to hear you, at least.” 

The heat that’s already started to curl in her gut starts to spread and she has to force herself to move, hand still tangled in the front of his shirt, for fear of climbing him in this corridor if they don’t leave right then. 

She manages to stay focused and get them to a small storage room off one of the lesser-used corridors in a few scant minutes. It’s far away from the main bulk of the space station and so the life systems sometimes drop below or above those in the rest of the base, though never to dangerous levels.

The cold air feels good against her skin.

The main reason that she’s chosen this place, however, is the spare cots she’d known the room had been holding. Unfortunately they’re gone, the room is bare. She should’ve known they would’ve been taken out to accommodate all of their transient soldiers, but she isn’t thinking clearly. The room is less than three meters by two and nothing but shelving and walls. 

He crowds her up against a wall before she can try to lead him somewhere else. 

Her head tips back even as her fingers tug at the bottom of his shirt and venture to find warm flesh. “I was hoping for a cot. This might be uncomfortable.” 

His grin is sharp and white and then he’s ducking down and using those same teeth to tug her lower lip into his mouth and kissing her until she runs out of oxygen. She pulls away with a gasp, leaning her head against the wall to try to catch her breath. 

He rests his cheek against hers, his clever fingers running from her waist down to the edge of her dress. (It’s the only dress she still owns – the only thing other than jumpsuits or lab coats or sleepwear that she’d brought with her at all – with a modest hem and a faded color.)“We can make this work. I don’t want to waste more time finding somewhere else, but if you do…” he trails off and shrugs, “you can have me any way you’d like, baby.”

Her skirt raises, inch by inch, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns as they move up and she loses her train of thought for a moment. It’s been so long since she’s felt something other than her own hands – and she’s barely had time for more than fast and efficient for years _or _privacy to do it in…so – his calluses catch on the smooth skin of her inner thighs and then he stops moving. 

She’s not ashamed that she whines, her hand curling tighter into his shirt to try to urge him to move. “What do you want, sweetheart? Do we need to move?” 

“No, no, here’s fine.” Her voice is strange to her own ears, husky, soft and breathless, and she breaks off with a keen when his fingers move again, cupping her lightly. She turns her head and finds his lips, curling one hand around the back of his neck and using the other to try to get at the fastenings on his pants. She gets them undone somehow and manages to slip a hand into the space provided. He bucks into her hand but keeps his own touch light, barely putting any pressure against her as his fingers rub over her wet knickers.

“Wall or floor, Jemma?” 

She swallows his words, arching into his touch, and he obliges her by finally – finally – slipping a finger into her. “Wall, first.” 

He laughs into her mouth – delighted, and then he’s pulling his finger out of her and picking her up and pinning her against the wall. He distracts her from her protest by kissing her breathless again – hard enough that her vision goes a little white around the edges.

Her legs wrap easily around his hips and he’s coordinated enough to slip his own trousers down and pull her knickers to the side and –

Her back arches when he shoves into her, his hand catching the back of her head so she doesn’t slam it against the wall. He feels good inside of her and she tries to tell him so but he doesn’t give her even a moment to form a thought before he’s pulling out and pushing back in and – 

Her fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders as he bites marks across her neck and moves inside of her. 

It’s hard and rough and fast and she’s going to have marks from his fingers and teeth – and probably even his hips – for days and she loves it. She arches greedily into his thrusts, fingers clawing at his shoulders and then the back of his head when he sucks a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. Her attempts at vocal encouragement fail when his finger finds her clit as he thrusts in particularly hard and all she manages is a high pitched whine that would be embarrassing if she couldn’t feel the wounded sounds he’s muffling against the skin of her throat. 

She peaks quickly and he muffles her with his mouth. She maybe loses time for a moment, as the next thing she knows he’s on the floor and she’s riding him and the change of angle is surprisingly delightful but her legs are still shaking a little and she finds herself just resting against him for a moment. 

She feels a bit shaky and warm and they exchange easy, soft kisses for a few moments before the itch and ache is back and she finds the energy to start rocking again. 

He moans and his head tips back and she takes the opportunity to affix her mouth to his neck — she wants to mark him like he’s marked her —and she tries to find a rhythm that she can keep to. His hands on her hips help her and soon she’s rocking into his thrusts —

She comes with a gasp and he comes swearing, stuttering up into her as she pulses around him and — 

Now she really is too limp to move, and she just lets herself drape over him and — she never wants to leave this perfect moment. It’s been so long and the comfort of _someone_ is just as good as the sex. 

“Fuck,” she exhales, after a long moment and she feels his laugh more than hears it. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, hand tracing up and down her back and the sweat that’s cooling on her skin feels good now but it’ll start to be uncomfortably chilly soon — but he’s so warm and the urge to move is just not there. He must be colder though, against the floor, but he’s still holding her close and not complaining. 

She’ll move in a moment. Probably. She just has to get the motivation. 

“We’re magic together,” he says before she’s completely fallen asleep on him. 

She hums her agreement and smiles as he laughs again. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like you can find me [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/capriciouswrites)! 
> 
> I feel like my ability to write smut is still a little broken so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Per usual this hasn't been edited nearly enough. Let me know if anything looks wonky or you have any questions. 
> 
> I'm gonna go to sleep so I can get on a red eye and visit family. Love love!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought!
> 
> OH! I almost forgot, so there was a post on tumblr with lighters from Vietnam, and one said "if you want to fuck smile when you hand this back" and that was where this entire fic came from. I'll keep looking for it, but it might be lost in the wilds of tumblr now...(Let me know if you know where it is!!)


End file.
